Be Still
by luvin-benadam
Summary: Spoiler Alert Set after Mockingjay, pre-epilogue. It's Prim's fourteenth birthday and to deal with her grief, Katniss does something drastic.
1. Chapter 1

The forest is quiet in the early morning hours and I find a strange comfort in knowing that I'm the only being awake out here right now. The sun is just thinking about rising, a soft, supple golden light illuminating the trees at the farthest corner of the forest and casting long shadows that stretch towards my feet. They sway in the wind like a symphony, hypnotic and mesmerizing, an intricate combination of rustling leaves and groaning bark. I stop on the precipice of my destination; it has been too long since I've been here, but I couldn't bring myself to come back without him. It looks just the same as I left it but the emptiness without his presence is tantamount. I turn on my heel, back the way I came, changing my mind. I don't want to be here in this place where the very essence of him is tainted into every leaf, every pebble, every overturned patch of dirt caused by his shoe. Not today.

I cross the meadow, now a grave of all those I once knew, slowly meshing back into the landscape with a covering of new grass and becoming less of a constant reminder of all we lost in the war. The trek back to the Victor's Village takes next to no time since I don't stop to admire the progress the people of twelve have made. Today I don't want to be reminded that people are moving on and happy and thriving. Today I want to be miserable and alone and wallow in pity. Today is Prim's fourteenth birthday.

I'm not remotely surprised to find Haymitch and Peeta standing on my front walk as I round the corner to my house. Okay, maybe I'm a little surprised to see Haymitch this early, but the glazed over look in his eyes tells me two things: One, he's drunk. Two, he never even went to sleep last night.

"Katniss," Peeta greets me as I approach them.

My lips remain firmly closed and I give a weak attempt to turn them up into a smile. I think it comes across more like a grimace by the reaction Haymitch gives me.

"Morning Sweetheart," he slurs. Definitely drunk.

"Hi," I manage to say. The look at me as if they're expecting something but I'm not sure what it is that they want me to do.

"Why don't we go inside?" Peeta offers. "I just started making breakfast."

Neither Haymitch nor I say anything so we follow Peeta to his house. As much as I want to be alone right now, I assume it would be quite rude to decline. Bacon and eggs assault my nose as I step into the front room which is identical to my own. My stomach growls loudly and I'm vaguely aware of the fact that I haven't eaten in a good twelve hours.

Haymitch and I sit placidly across from each other at the dining room table, neither saying much. What little manners I can think of right now want me to offer Peeta a hand, but the grief that is slowly choking its way up my chest threatens any words I try to utter to come out as a sob. Haymitch pulls a flask out from under the table somewhere and empties a substantial amount into the cup in front of him. I guess he's not having a good day either.

I'm suddenly aware of the fact that both Peeta and Haymitch are staring at me with confused expressions etched into their faces, and it takes me a minute to realize that without consciously deciding to, I've gotten up from my seat and am standing silently next to the table.

"Katniss, are you okay?" Peeta asks, concern lacing his voice.

"I appreciate this Peeta, I really do. But I'm not very hungry right now and I think I really just want to be alone," I say.

I expect them to object, to force me into the chair and spoon feed me eggs, but they don't. Haymitch takes a long drawl of his drink and Peeta nods understandingly.

"Of course," he says. "You go home. Maybe I'll bring by something to eat later for you, if you want of course."

I nod because I think it's all I can manage, faintly hear myself utter the word "Thanks," and tear out of the house. Only when I'm back outside do I realize that I've practically been holding my breath. I gulp the clean, cool air into my lungs and slowly walk my way back to my own house. As I push my way into the living room, a shrill ring comes from the phone in the kitchen. Instinctually I reach out towards it before I change my mind. I have a good idea as to who is phoning me but right now I don't feel like talking.

I quickly light a fire in the hearth and curl up against its mouth, willing the flames to warm the anguish inside of me. But all is does is remind me that the same flames I seek comfort in are the ones that are causing this anguish to begin with; are the ones that took my sister's life. The phone stops ringing and suddenly the house seems too quiet. I know it's cruel to shut my mother out like this, but right now her strength outweighs mine and I don't want her to see what a wreck I've let myself become today.

I cross my elbows over the hearth and lay my head across my arms, closing my eyes and allowing my thoughts to drift away. Peeta is the first thing that comes to mind. Sweet, kind, compassionate Peeta. Since he joined me back here he's done everything in his power to make sure that I'm alright, just as he always has. But every now and again I see that flicker, that shadow that crosses his eyes, as if his fingers still wish to reach out and wrap themselves around my neck. But just as quickly as the look appears, it is gone again.

I love Peeta, more than I think I can admit, but it's a strange love. It is born from a mutual need for survival and when removed from the environment in which it was created, festered into a relationship of comfort and compatibility. While I find nothing romantic between Peeta and I anymore, sometimes I still can't resist curling up in his arms to stave off the nightmares that have never left me. Lately I've been noticing Peeta spending more and more time with Delly, and while at first a jealous monster roared inside me, I gradually came to find relief in the fact that he is finding comfort in someone other than me.

The phone rings again and I don't think I can ignore it this time. I extricate myself from the tangle of limbs I created and pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Katniss?" Her voice is tired and I can feel her grief through the phone.

"Hi, Mom."

She sighs as if a wave of relief washes through her. "Hi, honey." We stay silent for a minute, neither all too sure what to say, before she continues with, "Are you okay?"

I briefly contemplate lying to spare her, but what's the point? Her sorrow and mine are one in the same. "No, not really."

"Me neither."

We're cut from the same cloth, my mother and I. She is clearly where I get my lack of ability to vocalize my thoughts from.

"I have a favour to ask you," she says. When I don't say anything, she asks me anyways. "Could you come visit me? I miss you honey, terribly, and I've already lost one daughter. I need you here with me, if only for a little while."

She always needs me, nothing has changed. I want to resent her for this but the simple fact is that I've spent the better part of my adult life taking care of her; me needing her would just be strange.

I contemplate the idea. While I don't particularly want to leave District 12, getting away might be nice. It's been hard watching Peeta spending his days with Delly, and Haymitch is always too drunk to be of any good company. And I do miss my mother, very much. Even when she was dependant on me she was still my mother, the woman who my father loved, the woman who gave me Prim.

"When?" I ask.

"Any time, the sooner the better."

Hearing her voice makes me realize that I don't want to wait to see her either. "How about tonight?"

I can practically hear the smile in her voice when she says, "Of course honey. Tonight is perfect."

"Okay," I say back. "I think there's an afternoon train to District 4 that leaves in a few hours, I'll be on that one."

But she stops me before I say anything further. "Actually, Katniss, I'm not in District 4 anymore. The hospital there was thriving so they asked me to help set up the hospital in another district. I'm in 2 now."

I sigh. Of course, of all the districts in Panem, she chooses to move to the one district where there's a person I'm trying to avoid. I've thought about Gale pretty much every day since I came back home, loathing and remorse and longing all tied into thoughts of him. I had spent so much time hating him, maybe it would do me some good to see him. Then again, chances are I'd just get there and chicken out on seeing him anyways. So I turn back to the phone and say to my mother: "Alright Mom, I'll be there by six."


	2. Chapter 2

District two looks just as I remember it. Lush green landscapes surrounded by the gentle breathing of mountains creating a valley nestled in its feet. They've recovered well since the war; the houses are small yet look well cared for and sturdily built. Unlike 12, it's more than just the citizens making sure that the economy bounces back. Clearly the new government has taken a key interest making sure that 2 is thriving. I think this should bother me but somehow it doesn't. Personally, I think 12 has always done better on their own. There are a lot of people disembarking the train with me so it takes a few moments to fight through them and work my way towards the waiting area. All around me people are embracing with smiles and hugs and jovially greeting their loved ones. I know no such greeting is waiting for me.

When I finally spot her she's standing with her back against a tall stone pillar, eyes down, fidgeting nervously with something in her hands I can't see. Her eyes dart up and immediately catch mine. I offer a small smile and gently push my way towards her.

"Katniss," she says, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Hi, Mom."

We stand awkwardly across from each other, neither knowing how to show affection very well. She makes the first move by reaching out and taking my hand in hers and as small as the gesture may seem, for us it is monumental.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you out of here."

She leads me through the maze of the train station, her hand my guide through the throngs of people before we finally break through and out into the open air. It's clean and cool in my lungs, filled with the scent of mountains and pine. We walk steadily through the newly tiled streets, the silhouette of The Nut casting shadows on our shoes, through the cobbled streets to my mother's house. I feel like I should say something consoling to her, to give her a hug to stifle the grief of losing Prim, but she seems content on our silence so I allow it to be.

After a short walk she leads me to the door of a cute little townhome surrounded by others just like it. The short front walk is adorned with a small, colourful garden on either side and hanging from the front door is beautiful spring wreath laced with daisies and tulips.

"This is where you live?" I ask her. I am in awe of how well she seems to have done for herself.

She nods shyly and opens the front door to a quaint sitting room.

"This is amazing, Mom," I say, and she blushes in response.

"Have a seat, I'll make you a cup of tea." I sit on one of the pastel coloured sofas next to the empty fireplace and patiently wait. She's back a moment later with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of cookies and sits quietly next to me.

"So how have you been?" She asks me.

I smile as if this alone should be reassuring. "I'm surviving."

She pats my knee with her hand. "You always have Katniss."

"And you? Everything seems to be going really well for you here."

A genuine smile graces her face. It's a gesture that I haven't seen in years. "I'm happy Katniss. Really happy for the first time in a long time. And I miss you and Prim more than anything, but I'm learning to cope. Work certainly helps."

"Do you ever see anyone, you know, from back home?" I ask because I can't stand not knowing anymore.

My mother gives me a knowing look. She's aware that I'm talking about Gale. "Occasionally," she replies. "Hazelle and the kids live not too far from here. She opened a laundry business not long ago; it's doing quite well actually. The boys and Posy are all settling into school."

She pauses and I urge her to go on without asking.

"Gale is doing really well. He got a job for the Capitol working as a city engineer. Don't see him much, he's usually pretty busy."

I nod, unsure of what to say. So Gale had done well then. I suppose I should resent that fact that his life is turning out well when my sister's was snuffed out at thirteen, but all I feel is relief and gratefulness. However mad I may be at Gale, I still wish him well.

"What about you Katniss? Do you ever talk to Gale?"

I take a sip of my tea and shake my head.

"He said he tried calling you not too long ago," my mother says. I think my heart may actually stop. "You didn't answer."

I had no knowledge of Gale trying to get in contact with me and this new information brings on a whole ton of mixed emotions. "Did he say why?" I ask.

"No. To be honest Katniss I think he just wanted to hear your voice again."

I swallow, tears threatening to spill over my eyes but I force them down and take another sip.

"I saw her once." It comes out as a whisper.

Confusion knits itself in between my mother's eyes. "Who?"

"Prim."

Her eyes find mine with a look of fear and heartache. "Oh Katniss," she begins.

But I interrupt. "No Mom it's not like that. It was a dream. But she was so life-like, so real. I could feel the dip she made in the mattress beside me." My mother's hand entwines in my own. "She just laid there beside me all night, smiling with happiness only Prim could uphold, and she told me that her death wasn't Gale's fault." My mother's hand squeezes tighter against my fingers. "She said that if I loved her I'd stop pushing away the people that I needed. Coming from her lips, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world."

I have no idea where this sudden honestly has come from but it feels good, feels right, to be sharing this burden with my mother. It is so unlike me to throw my feelings into the wind with words, but I feel lighter now that I have.

After the dream about Prim a sudden realization had hit me. They bombs may have been Gale's design, but it wasn't as if I was innocent in this war. I had blindly slayed and killed whoever was in my path in those last moments in the centre of the Capitol. And weren't those people someone's sisters, mothers, brothers, uncles, cousins, daughters? Weren't they all belonging to someone too? In the end they were all just innocent victims of a war that wasn't their fault. Which made me as much to blame for Prim's death as Gale.

"Prim was about the most forgiving person I'd ever met," my mother says, snapping me out of my reverie. I nod. "Darling why don't you go see Gale? He doesn't live far from here you know."

I contemplate the idea. I'm not sure if I'm actually ready for this.

My mother gives me a moment to my thoughts before she interjects. "Please Katniss, if you won't do it for yourself, do it for Prim."

With a heavy sigh I nod. Anything for Prim.


	3. Chapter 3

In my haste to make it to district 2 I realize that I've forgotten to pack anything that would allow for me to stay long. A pair of dirty jeans and a second t-shirt was all I had the foresight to throw into my knapsack before tearing out my front door. Now standing here in my old hunting jacket and boots, I'm conscious that this is not how I want Gale to see me after all this time apart. Even if it's not entirely true, I want it to appear as though I'm coping at least somewhat well in the wake of his departure.

"Here," my mother says. "I have something for you to wear."

She pulls me to her closet and pulls out a summery floral dress. I don't think she could have found anything less me.

"Mom," I caution.

"Now, now Katniss. It'll be pretty." She pushes the dress into my hands and steps to the door. "I'll be waiting just outside." She slides the door closed behind her and I'm left alone with the ghastly piece of clothing.

It's laid across the bed and I suppose in a traditional sense it could be called pretty, but all I can think about is my time at the Capitol where every article of clothing they put me in was an effort to make me look more feminine and dainty. I slip my own clothes from my body and hoist the strapless dress onto my frame, securing the small belt that loops itself around my waist with a buckle and turn to the mirror. It looks like there's a stranger staring back at me; it's been so long since I've looked in a mirror.

There are dark circles under my eyes from my thrashing nightmares that keep me from peaceful sleep and now, even with an abundance of food at my disposal, I still look as though I haven't had a decent meal in weeks. My mother knocks and re-renters the bedroom with an audible sigh.

"Oh, Katniss!" She coos. "You look beautiful."

Beautiful is certainly not the word I would have chosen. I look like a stranger. She strides over to me and takes my hair in her capable hands. "Let's change this up a little." She sits me in the chair in front of the vanity and gently removes the elastic tying in my braid, kneading her fingers through the twisted hair until it comes loose from its bindings and cascades down my shoulders. It's been so long since I've let it out of my braid that I've forgotten how long it is. It flows in gentle waves to almost halfway down my back.

While I'm lost in my thoughts, my mother has taken a section of underneath hair and knotted it into a thin braid, twisted it over the crown of my head as a headband and secured it neatly on the other side. Then swiveled me to face her and dabbed a bit of makeup to hide the fact that I haven't slept, making my grey Seam eyes pop out of my pale face.

The girl staring back at me looks lost. Pretty, I suppose, but lost.

"Don't you think it's a little much?" I ask, unsure.

"I think it's just right."

She takes my hand and leads me back downstairs, pulling a pair of flat black shoes from the closet and setting them in front of me. I slip into them without comment. They're comfortable, not more than my boots, but they'll do for the time being.

My mother slips me a piece of paper. "Here's Gale's address. It's only a five minute walk. Just go see him, I think you'll feel better once you do."

I hesitate at the door, my knuckles grazing the polished wood, attempting to stop my breath from hitching in my chest. I have no idea how long I've been trying to work up the courage to just knock on the door but it feels like forever. This doesn't look like the place I had imagined him living in my mind. It's neater, painted a soft yellow, and looks almost feminine with its tended garden and budding daisies. Through the window I can see a small sitting room, cozy, with a small fire illuminating the furniture. As the curtain ruffles I see a figure pass through the kitchen at the back of the house.

I decide that I can't do this; I don't want to see him, not now. But as I turn away from the door I hear the distinct sounds of hinges creaking and a draft of warm air crosses my back.

"Can I help you?" A voice asks.

I turn back towards the door and stare into the face of a pretty blonde. "Umm," is all I can manage to say. "I'm sorry, I think I must have the wrong house." I want to turn and leave but my feet won't move.

"Who is it that you're looking for?" She says politely. "Maybe I can help."

"Gale Hawthorne," I manage to choke out.

A flicker of recognition passes across her face. "Oh no, you have the right place. I'm Caia, Gale's girlfriend, let me go get him for you."

She turns away from the door, shouting Gale's name, and my heart stops. I can't do this, sit in his living room and have tea with the woman he's made a life with. I turn away from the door, seeking refuge, and find it in the form of a tall forest across the street. There are no small closets or air vents I can hide in now, and the forest is about as safe a place as I can imagine. My feet are carrying me towards it before I consciously decide to. I run and run until I find a tree, a tall, sturdy oak, and throw myself into the dirt under it, my knees pulled up to my chest, heaving in the air that won't satisfy my lungs.

It's too much, showing up at Gale's doorstep after all this time and expecting that nothing would have changed. Of course things have changed. I pushed him from my life, it was delusional of me to think that maybe, just maybe, he would have waited around for me.

Gale's POV:

"Gale!" I can hear Caia calling my name from somewhere downstairs so I peek my head over the upstairs railing, toothbrush in my mouth, and manage a "Yeah?" without spitting toothpaste all over the floor.

Her head appears at the base of the stairs. "Someone's at the door for you."

"Who is it?" I ask. My family make themselves at home here without usually knocking so it's perplexing who would be visiting me so formally.

"I don't know," Caia responds. "A girl. I've never seen her before."

My interest is now definitely piqued. Walking back to the bathroom I spit the last of my toothpaste into the sink and put my toothbrush back in the holder before waltzing down the stairs to where Caia is waiting. She smiles and leads me to the wide open door. No one is there.

I look to Caia, perplexed, and my confusion is mirrored in her eyes.

"She was just here!" she insists. "I just told her I was going to get you, but now she's gone."

"I can see that," I reply somewhat shortly. Today is my only day off and I don't feel like playing hooky with a stranger at the doorbell. "What did this girl look like?"

"Long dark hair," She thinks for a moment. "Pretty," she adds as an afterthought with just the slightest tint of jealousy.

But I've stopped listening because there could only be one girl who fits that description that would be visiting me on today of all days. "Think Caia, have you ever seen her somewhere before? Did she look familiar?"

Her faces screws up into a look of concentration. "I don't know. She looks kind of familiar. I don't know where from though."

"The TV maybe?" I prompt. "Something to do with the rebellion?"

A look of recognition dawns on her face. "Oh yeah! I think she might have been that Mockingjay girl."

Before Caia's sentence has finished I'm out the door. Her realization is more than enough to prove to me that Katniss was here on my doorstep being greeted by my girlfriend. I'm on the front stoop now, eyes scanning the street but I know in my heart that she's long gone by now. I try to think like Katniss, where she would run to. My guess is not back to her mother, she's never found comfort there. But I know exactly where she'll be when my eyes scan the forest across the street from my home.

"Caia I'll be back," I call behind me as I'm already running away.

The old hunter in me takes over as I take my first step into the forest I myself often find solace in, scanning the ground for any recent disturbances. It takes a few minutes but I finally spot the beginning of a trail leading through the underbrush beginning a few feet to my right. Stopping every now and again when I lose the trail, I eventually find what I'm looking for just a few hundred yards into the sparse forest.

She's sitting under a giant oak, head held in her hands, motionless. For a moment I'm afraid for her and I want to go over and make sure she's okay but I'm afraid of scaring her off. So instead I just stand meters away from her, a thousand thoughts rushing through my mind about why she has come to visit me at last.

Katniss' POV:

My head is spinning and the harder I suck in a breath the dizzier I get. The cool pine scent of the forest somewhat lulls my rising panic but my thoughts are still so jumbled that I can't string one from the other. I decide to think nothing at all but that fails miserably when the blonde face of Gale's girlfriend pops into my mind. Anger that I have no right to feel flares inside me. I decide maybe walking will help so I brace myself against the tree and push into a standing position, facing further into the trees illuminated by the dying sun.

A sudden feeling strikes me, one of being watched, and a quickly whip around. I had forgotten how silent he could be, Gale, standing just feet from me with a look on his face that I can't place. I'm not sure what I thought I would feel when my eyes laid on him for the first time but it's not this: relief and longing. He continues to stare at me, still as stone, as if daring me to prove to him that I'm real. In response I take one small step towards him at the same time he mirrors my action.

"Katniss," he says.

My breath hitches. After so many dreams of hearing Gale calling out to me, having the real thing with my name in his mouth is like a breath of fresh air. He takes another tentative step towards me and when I don't pull away, he takes two more. We're mere feet from each other and I'm consciously aware of the fact that if I reached out, my fingers could graze the smooth skin that was such a comfort a long time ago.

"Gale." It's pure relief to say his name again, to wrap my tongue around the syllable that brings a thousand emotions all at once.

He smiles, a gesture I haven't seen on his face in what seems like years. "I didn't know you were coming here."

"Neither did I."

He takes another step towards me, we are mere inches away, and I can see his arms twitching as if they want to reach out and wrap around me. Suddenly my fist flies out and smacks him in the chest. It wasn't until I laid the first punch that I was aware of just how furious I am with him. The first punch is followed by a second, then a third, until I'm wailing on him non-stop with every last ounce of strength I l have left in my body.

At first he just takes it, stands there and lets me get my aggression out on him, but after the fifth or sixth punch he gently grabs my hands with a defeated, "Katniss!" and tries to stop my incessant wailing on him. His resistance only causes me to thrash against him, my arms pinned by his strong muscles, but I squirm and lash out until he releases one of his arms holding my hand and uses it to wrap around my waist, drawing me towards his torso. I continue my assault, throwing every last ounce of energy I have at him, until the effort seems monumental and I collapse into him, sobbing, knees buckling, held up by his arm around my waist, exhausted face pressed into the cotton on his shirt.

"Shh, shh Katniss," I can hear him as he presses his face into my hair.

The strangled and agonized cries I hear I realize are coming from my own mouth. I'm clinging onto his body as if it gives me life, my arms wrapped so tightly around him I don't think I'll ever let go, and in response his arm encircle me, one hand bracing the back of my neck, holding all my weight so I'm in a standing position.

"I'm sorry Katniss, shh, shh, I'm so sorry," he whispers into my hair.

It is this apology that finally stifles my cries. I'm too ashamed to look up into his face so instead I press myself tighter against him. I can feel his big hands, hands that I once trusted, rubbing soothing circles into my back and slowly I begin to relax. It's only in the absence of my own cries that I realize that part of the sobbing never belonged to me; Gale is crying too.

I pull back, somewhat shocked, and look into his red-rimmed eyes. He keeps his arms wrapped tight around me.

"I'm so sorry Katniss," he repeats.

I shake my head. "No I am. I never should have hurt you like that."

He quickly interrupts me. "You had every right."

I pull away from him, embarrassed, and straighten the dress I feel so uncomfortable in. I feel his gaze raking over my body and feel even more self conscious.

"You look good," he says.

I try out a smile but it feels wrong so I just continue to stare at him placidly.

"Why don't we go get a drink?" he offers tentatively.

I say nothing to instead he holds out his hand towards me. I stare at it, debating on whether it's an enemy or a friend, before reaching out and placing my hand in his.


End file.
